.. oh go on then..... just one more .....

..this week I 'as been mostly playin' ..

.......Wilco.... Don't know who they are.

don't know what they are.. cool or crap ..

All I know is the more I listen to them ..

Well......... Wow ...........

Think I'll finish work today, looking forward to
spending Christmas in the warm at 60a, man
it's been cold at Runway Farm this last week
or so.
Don't know what to make of Christmas anymore,
but that goes for most things now. Guess it was
and always will be, for the 'children'. Thinking
back to my child hood, although of course Father
Christmas and presents were very exciting, it was
the Nativity story that I loved the most. It filled me
with wonder and was so full of love and hope.
Now, sadly, I find it as believable as Santa......

Anyway, to all my many readers, and they are legion,
I wish you a warm and happy Christmas, and may
your God go with you ...

Here's Joni, a companion of mine at Christmas .....

Forgot about this place. guess that's

because I've got nothing to say, and 

at such times it's best to say nothing.

When you are quiet and say nothing

then that's the best time to listen, and,

if you're gonna listen then the best

thing to lend your ears to is a bunch

of musicians having fun .............

( come on youtube.. behave.. )

       

11th hour

11th day

11th month

In Memory of Private Reuben Hinks

2468, 2nd Bn., Royal Warwickshire Regiment

who died aged 21 on 9th October 1917

Remembered with honour

 

TYNE COT MEMORIAL

I often think of Reuben and his "pals"

especially this time of year of course,

and the saddest thought, is that for

Reuben and many of his mates,

the war never ended .......

.... they shoot horses don't they.....

Had four numbers in the lottery, yeah £66, Vegas here I come.

Apart from money to "good' causes, I don't know why I do the

Lottery, you can't win it twice, can you?

    I was born English and white. Now if you have the stomach for

it, go look at news-clips of children in other parts of the world,

( you know where) then convince me that I didn't win the Lottery

the day I was born. I'm descended from Irish immigrants,and I'm

told, if you go back a few centuries my family were Irish tinkers,

following Cromwell's army around mending their pots and pans.

Now there's a bloodline to die for.

        It follows that my children are English. My youngest daughter

 now lives in Gimhae, South Korea. Apart from getting a few bits of

paper stamped, she had no trouble getting there, and was welcomed

with warm smiles and generous hearts. I don't know all the reasons

for her leaving the U.K., but I'm sure a contributory fact was the death

of her close friend Jamie., a young man of twenty one years, who was

 serving with the British Army when he lost his life in Helmand

 Province,protecting us and, the Afghan people. 

        Afghanistan, watched a program documenting young Afghan

 families fleeing from the Taliban, fleeing from the land where Jamie

 had died. Their journey involved traveling through Turkey, then 

sailing across the Aegean sea in tiny inflatable 'boats'. Many are

 drowned and don't make the crossing, those that do are herded into

 buildings, so awful, you wouldn't let a dog live there, let alone

 humans. I don't know the numbers, but I'm sure a few complete their

 journey to their 'promised' lands of France, Germany and the U.K.

 where of course, as they arrive, clutching their precious bits of paper,

 appropriately stamped, they are welcomed with warm smiles and,

 generous hearts......

.......... aren't they ?

     

..so, the blues, my blues...

Well, at last they've gone, those tired little

people with frowns on their faces,  clouds above their heads, and money in their pockets.

In their place, as a new board,  we have people from a faraway land with light in their eyes,

smiles that are so infectious, and so much energy you feel that they can carry us to "the end

of the road". Well I do, but then I'm just a 'boy' so I'll quote two chinese proverbs, take your pick.

Is it because.." The longer the night lasts, the more our dreams will be?"

or are we to ... "Dream different dreams while on the same bed?

Hey, lets ride the "Tiger"    KRO

.. well, what a bummer of a week-end.

   The Blues play shite and get beaten by Burnley ( yeah.. Burnley)

   but, that's ok I guess, it's what we do.

       Then there's the Irish... A while back they voted no to the Lisbon

   treaty, how cool was that?  We all knew though, it didn't count because

   they didn't vote yes, so there would be another vote, and another etc.

   until they voted yes.  Sure enough there was another vote, and the EU

   threw a much money as it took ( even broke the law on media coverage)

   to get the Irish people to vote yes.

         Don't you just love it, "capitalist run democracy" at it's best/worst.

    But that's ok I guess, it's what we do..... so to cheer myself up here's

    a clip of Monroe.. Simone... and Dylan...    

        ( If youtube remove this, I'm gonna find a little guy and give him what for..)

September..

. So, it's almost gone, September...
and this year it has been as beautiful as only September can be.
It's almost as if nature is saying... sorry, but the summer has gone
now, so to make it easier, go walk in the early morning mists that
hug the valleys, go feast your eyes on these stunning colours, go listen,

to our own blackbirds song, now the swallows have left for southern skies.

   September seems to me, now, a month in which to reminisce.

I remember Rebecca... she bought me this song by Sting a long time ago...

Or was it only yesterday........ eat your waters kiddo......... x

... surely nothing can stop it now?

    Sully and Brady are leavin'..... and I'm ..........

... spioncop put me on to this guy Phil Ochs.
This is a cover version by Ani DiFranco of  one of his tracks.
It's close to being the most beautiful track I've ever heard.




..... are you brave enough to listen while you're alone?

  There's no place in this world where I'll belong when I'm gone

  And I won't know the right from the wrong when I'm gone

  And you won't find me singin' on this song when I'm gone

  So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here.

  And I won't feel the flowing of the time when I'm gone

  All the pleasures of love will not be mine when I'm gone

  My pen won't pour a lyric line when I'm gone

  So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here.

  And I won't breathe the bracing air when I'm gone

  And I can't even worry 'bout my cares when I'm gone

  Won't be asked to do my share when I'm gone

  So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here.

  And I won't be running from the rain when I'm gone

  And I can't even suffer from the pain when I'm gone

  Can't say who's to praise and who's to blame when I'm gone

  So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here.

  Won't see the golden of the sun when I'm gone

  And the evenings and the mornings will be one when I'm gone

  Can't be singing louder than the guns when I'm gone

  So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here.

  And all my days won't be dances of delight when I'm gone

  And the sands will be shifting from my sight when I'm gone

  Can't add my name into the fight when I'm gone

  So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here.

  And I won't be laughing at the lies when I'm gone

  And I can't question how or when or why when I'm gone

  Can't live proud enough to die when I'm gone

  So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here.....

11th September 2001

... have they changed?

chayabarry

chaya .......

.. there was a tavern ........

... found this on a Birmingham City fans forum.
Don't know why I've put it on here, not sure
Les Robinson would approve, hope I haven't
offended him. KRO



Once Upon a Time, There Was a Tavern by Les Robinson

I remember we got into town that night at about 8 o'clock, It was a cold November night but the 55 bus dropped us less than 400 yards away, a few minutes brisk walk.

We got into the pub at about 8 10pm, the three of us, Steve Grater, Steve Cox and myself, we knew quite a few of our friends would be down there already and even more would arrive later.

I remember going to the bar and buying three pints of Lager, Steve C meanwhile had put some money into one of those new fangled video machines, the bat and ball game. Sure, old fashioned and simplistic now, but then? Wow!

I had always been a bad loser at most things, thankfully, I've mellowed now and although I still like to win, its not the be all and end all that it once was.

Damn..I was losing and losing badly. I punched the machine and walked away, Steve C shouted to me to come back. I turned from the middle of the pub and did what was for me a strange thing...I actually listened.

I put my hands on the button and then my whole world roared like a thousand thunderstorms raging in my head.

I flew through the air doing a complete somersault before hitting the wall at the bottom of the stairs. I could smell burning, my ears hurt like I had never known, with my eyes wide open I couldn't see an inch in front of me.

The IRA had detonated the second of their bombs that night in Birmingham.

I was lying in the rubble that seconds before.....was the Tavern in the Town.

Anyone who says they saw legs and arms missing etc, well, take it from me, they certainly weren't in there at the time.

Every light blew in the pub, plunging it mixed in with the dust, into total darkness, you couldn't see a thing.

My both eardrums burst with the concussive effects of the bomb, I had taken shrapnel to over 15 parts of my body, and my hair had burned off due to the heat effects of the blast, Later, I noticed sacs of fluid hanging from my fingertips that had been directly exposed to the bomb

My trousers had blown apart at the seams due to the pressure going up my legs and being unable to escape at the waistband, my nylon sweater had melted to my body..

I started to rise to my feet but kept falling over, my balance gone, along with my eardrums..I remember crawling up the stairs and as I did so, my arm slipped through a jagged hole in the stairs where the bomb blast had punched through...I got to the top of the stairs, I still think to this day, the first person to get out of there that night. Town was in uproar....no one stopped to help me.

My dad always said to me, 'Les, if you're ever in trouble, tell me'

Dad, I was in trouble. I decided there and then to make my way home to Hindlow Close in Nechells. I 've always had this thing about, you can't die on your feet. I had to stay up, I was determined to.

I look back on it now and liken it to learning to ride a bike, I'd go a few yards then simply and slowly ... just fall over ... I was in no real pain, Shock yes, fear perhaps, pain .. not yet, that was later ... I remember the only time I cried ... it was when I got to the long wall going down Curzon St. I cried because it meant I could stop myself falling over as I made my way home. I saw a friend called Jimmy Kennedy as I neared home, he was with his girlfriend Lucy, they were going up to town because Lucy's sister was in the same pub. Jimmy later said ' I looked like a monster'. Looking back, I can't remember why he didn't help me.

I got home, I dont remember how long it took, I just know it was slow and hard.

I knocked my house door and our lodger, Arthur Powell opened the door and I fell into his arms. I was home, I was safe. A neighbour two doors away took me up to the Accident Hospital in Bath Row. He was an Irishman named Mr Quinn.

Folk over the years have said 'I bet you must hate the Irish'

How can I? My brother married a girl from Limerick. They have two fabulous children. Tell me, which part of them should I hate?

I came out of the Accident Hospital on November 23rd, I remember lying in bed staring up at the ceiling unable to sleep, my Dad not wanting to leave me alone must have lay there awake listening to my moans.

People never told me that even with your eardrums burst there was still a roar going through my head that seemed like it would never end.

I remember the most awful thing of all ... the smell of my hair that had been reduced to a small frizzled stubble. I had taken several pieces of glass under my right armpit, one through my knee, my left eye (thankfully missing the eyeball itself) a few more in my leg and one to my hip.

On the whole I'd much rather have been in Philadelphia. I remember my family coming to see me over the next few days. My Uncle Les, a huge man being reduced to tears as he hugged me. My Uncle Tommy Brennan, unable to face me because he was Irish ... silly, silly man, I loved him very much.

I made my way up to the Bathroom to try to get myself cleaned up, when I looked in the mirror at my peeling and burned face, I felt like crying. I was a 22 year old man with no hair and a scabby face ... bloody hell, did this mean I'd have to start supporting the Villa soon as well?

Various friends came down to see me, my closest friend Alan told me how much his Mom was worried about me. His Mom? She had been like one to me too. I knew I had to pay her a visit just so she knew I was alright. I caught the 55 bus to Cole Hall Lane to see her. I remember people looking at me then when I met their eye, they turned away.

My friend Steve C had taken worse injuries than me, thankfully like mine though, only minor. He came out of Hospital, two weeks later. Steve G fared a little worse. He had been out in the open and taken half a beer glass into his back. Paradoxically, the further away if you survive the blast. the more shrapnel came at you.

I remember meeting up, the 3 of us, collectively the worst hair styles in history. I was off work nearly 5 months while I recovered, I wrote earlier I have never once dwelled upon it. That was a fib. My first drink in a pub post Tavern was when my friend Steve C's brother-in-law took us up to the Skylark on Castle Vale. I remember sitting down all calm and collected as we waited for our drinks. As he bought them over and I lifted it to my lips, I began to shake like a man holding a Pneumatic drill. It took me another 3 months to get over it.

I said I never lost friends in the Tavern. I did .. but not like you'd think. With the money from The Lord Mayors fund, from Criminal Injuries, from Collections at the CO-OP dairy where I worked, plus local pubs, the Erdington Round Table, we were paid thousands. The equivilent easily of 2/3 years wages by todays standards. There were seven of us with such riches. Now, think of our other friends who had arrived late and missed it. They never saw the pain, only our money.

One of my closest friends who was in there with me ... well, it happened like this. We had received £500 pre Christmas to spend on what we will. I was also on full pay from the Dairy as well as various collections; (free milk, eggs, pop etc..thanks Harry!)


In the March, my second large payment landed on my doormat..it was for a £1000. Hurriedly I ran round to my friends house to see if he'd had the same. As I showed him my check all excited (remember if, you were on £40 a week then, it was the equivilent of 6 months wages now). He looked at me and said the most devastating line I'd ever heard. 'You should have died in that place'. His postman had not yet been. He tried to apologise a few days later when the postman called a few hours after I'd been round. Sorry, I'm a bit petty, I wanted and still dont, any of it.

Its burns day (no, not the Robbie one) at the Accident hospital in Bath Row. There I am feeling all sorry for myself, scabby face, no hair (growing back mind), really poorly fingers that had been directly out in the blast. When a young girl sat down beside me. I couldn't tell her age, it could have been anything from 13 to 23. She told me that when she was 10, she picked up a can of petrol that her dad had used to light a bonfire. You want to know her ambition? She wanted a nose again.

My name is Les Robinson, I wont write about the Tavern anymore. I only did this because even 29 years later, I am still thoroughly ashamed of myself

a beautiful sadness ..........

.. Pretty things ...........

.. Mate of mine returned a book of Larkin's poems,

what a guy, Larkin that is, not my mate, he's just a

bum of a brummie. Got me to thinking how we  change

as time marches on, turn the page from boy to youth,

youth to young man and so on.

     I assume every one is aware of this metamorphosis, even 

on a simple level such as watching a film. Aware of how we go

 from identifying with, say James Dean in "Rebel"

 to Brando in "Last Tango in Paris"( no, not the pervy bits )

 to Sean Connery as Indies dad.

So how did I miss it all ? Me....? I'm just a boy .........

... life is good ...

... Driving to Runway Farm this morning, seven o'clock-ish,

along the Kenilworth Highway, hardly a breath of wind and,

a very English, damp, 'mizzley' morning. I noticed how lush

and green all the hedgerows were now, even the tall trees

are starting to wear their summer foliage again. Spring is

here and I've only just noticed.

      Lush and green except for one stretch of road, ( about

half a mile or so ) that is lined  soley with Hawthorn.

This now so heavy with Mayflower that it's boughs are almost

touching the grass verges below. Boughs so full with blossom

............... you would swear they were laiden with winter snow ...

KRO

".... wish I knew you before ...."

.. trouble is I did meet them, met them all, 

..just didn't know who they were ........

.. fourth time I tried to post this Amy, think you're

being a bit mean.....

... ah Kenny ..... miss you ace .....

.... just a beautiful seventy eight seconds ...




..... drops in the river... or pissin' in the wind ......

 .. live in Korea ... so apt I guess ...

.. time for tea

  ...... so what do I do now ? .......

.. April is the cruelist month, breading

   Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

   Memory and desire, stirring

   Dull roots with spring rain ........